


filmed for you

by fromaseance



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, jaehyun gets the opportunity to film him, taeyong uploads porn videos and holds live shows online to pay for college fees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromaseance/pseuds/fromaseance
Summary: “Did you bring it?” Taeyong’s voice rings bright in contrast to what it had sounded earlier from outside the room.Jaehyun hears a rustling from Taeyong’s bed, as though the other was just in the middle of sitting up to greet him. But he doesn’t look up, not yet, choosing instead to fiddle with the digital handheld camera that Taeyong had specifically requested for him to dig out of his drawers and bring. “Yeah,” he answers, “I charged it too.”Or, the one where Taeyong asks Jaehyun to film him.





	filmed for you

**Author's Note:**

> so, this started out as a personal challenge and got way out of hand. i've never written anything close to smut before (as perhaps will be made obvious), so consider this an adequate disclaimer of sorts. still, i hope this proves to be worth reading!

Jaehyun knocks. Twice, in quick progression, the prominent joint of his bent index finger rapping loud enough in the silence of the hallway and against the barrier-like solidity of his roommate’s wooden door.

He’s done this countless of times before—knocking and entering his roommate’s room, that is. And throughout the two years he’s spent sharing an apartment with Taeyong, he has also learned how to enter the elder’s room unceremoniously, and how doing so earns him either a soft and warm ‘what do you need, Jaehyunnie?’ or a cold and hard throw of a pillow to his face.

He’s entered Taeyong’s room countless of times before, but he’s never done so with the same intent—or, more accurately, _purpose_—as the one that he had now.

“Come in,” he hears Taeyong say from within the room, voice subdued by the walls outside of which Jaehyun stood wiping the palm of his free hand on the side of his grey sweatpants.

The door creaks as he pushes it open and steps inside, and he tries not to flinch as he feels the sudden change in temperature crawl over and under his skin. Taeyong always liked to turn the air-conditioning on whenever he filmed one of his things, especially during summer. (Jaehyun knows this solely because, on nights when Taeyong would hang a ‘don’t disturb’ sign on his doorknob, Jaehyun could always expect to hear the low humming of his roommate’s AC in the hallway.)

Jaehyun keeps his head lowered as he toes the door behind him and watches it close with a click. He’s not really ready to face Taeyong just yet. Aside from the rose gold satin sheets that he knows the elder spreads over his bed for this kind of nights, he’s not quite sure what to expect, and he certainly does not what to think about it now when he’s just a head lift away from confirming or disproving whatever he chooses to imagine.

“Did you bring it?” Taeyong’s voice rings bright in contrast to what it had sounded earlier from outside the room.

Jaehyun hears a rustling from Taeyong’s bed, as though the other was just in the middle of sitting up to greet him. But he doesn’t look up, not yet, choosing instead to fiddle with the digital handheld camera that Taeyong had specifically requested for him to dig out of his drawers and bring. “Yeah,” he answers, “I charged it too.”

He turns the camera on and brings it up to point it at Taeyong—who’s sitting on the bed with his legs crossed and his hands on his ankles—only to turn it off again. “It’s ready,” he says, turning his head to look at the room again, willing himself to take in anything but what he just saw through the viewfinder. He scrunches his nose after a moment, concluding the smell of air-freshener that lingered in Taeyong’s room a little too antiseptic for tonight’s agenda.

Taeyong chuckles, “Great. Thanks.” And although Jaehyun isn’t looking at him, he knows that the younger could tell he was fidgeting. “Sorry,” he says, “I know this is a lot to ask. But these things generally get more likes and views, and I just really, _really_, need the money. I might also get a bigger audience the next time I hold a live show, you know? This could reel in more tips—”

“It’s fine, hyung,” Jaehyun interrupts. “It’s a coupon favor, after all.”

The coupons. Jaehyun blames everything on the damned coupons. He gave three of them to Taeyong a few months ago, during White Day, as thanks for the cake that the elder had baked for his birthday. His reasons for creating _‘I’ll do anything you want’_ coupons were as follows: (1) it’s part of his initiative to become a better roommate and (2) he needed a gift that was platonic enough but, at the same time, had the potential to be anything but.

It was his idea, so he really couldn’t blame Taeyong for using them for whatever and whenever he deemed fit. The coupons came with no limitations too, because when Jaehyun wrote down “anything,” he really meant _anything _that Taeyong would want him to do.

“Oh, before I forget. Here.” Taeyong moves to grab something from his bedside table. He then hands what seemed to be a slip of paper to Jaehyun with a smile, his fingers grazing faintly over Jaehyun’s outstretched palm. “That’s the last of them.”

“Thanks.” Jaehyun looks at the palm-sized coupon in his hand as he nods, crumpling it after to fit into his pocket. This—whatever it was that was still about to happen—_is_ the last of the favors; Taeyong had used up the first two on mundane chores that he couldn’t be bothered to carry out while studying, much to Jaehyun’s quiet disappointment. No, he was happy he could give Taeyong more time to sleep or study by doing the laundry and, once, by vacuuming. The disappointment came solely from the fact that there was no need to use the first two coupons. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, Jaehyun knows he would have done both requests for free if Taeyong had only asked.

He briefly wonders if he could treat this third request the same way he did the first two: nothing but a favor to help his Hyung through college. He wishes he could. He really, _really_, wishes he could, especially because he knows Taeyong doesn’t feel the same way he does. Because, right now, he’s not so sure if he could come out of this situation still okay with being just Taeyong’s roommate and friend.

“I guess we can start?” Taeyong settles back onto his bed. Then, he adds, hands coming back to squeeze at his ankles, “You can tell me if you’d rather not do this, Jaehyunnie. I could just use a tripod, as always.”

Jaehyun shakes his head as he laughs inwardly, more to himself than to anyone really because, hell, he wants to do this. Has fascinated once—had allowed himself to do so only _once_—about doing this after he watched one of Taeyong’s videos out of curiosity. Only Taeyong doesn’t know that, so he says, “But that wouldn’t be POV porn now, would it?”

Taeyong gazes up at the other, a look of mild incredulity on his face. “Right,” he says, clutching at his sweater as he does. “Well, if you ever change your mind... tell me. I know your coupon said ‘anything,’ but I don’t want to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

Jaehyun tries not to stare at the way Taeyong’s loose cream sweater falls off of one side of his shoulder, the exposed skin coming into full contrast with the elder’s jet black hair. “I’m fine, hyung. Really,” Jaehyun reassures the other. “Where do you want me?”

He walks over to Taeyong, towards the edge of the bed where he stops, unsure of where and how to position himself. The first out of the three conditions that Taeyong had laid out when he first approached Jaehyun for this request was that there would not be any touching. Jaehyun’s singular purpose for the day was merely to film Taeyong at angles that a camera on a tripod couldn’t.

“I guess, here?” Taeyong scoots back towards the headboard to make space for Jaehyun, his brown shorts and the thin material of his beige thigh highs chafing against the bed sheet. “On the bed,” he says, patting the space in front of him for emphasis.

Slipping off his house slippers, Jaehyun climbs onto the bed, the metal frame creaking under his weight. He ends up kneeling in front of Taeyong, their legs just short of touching, the space in between them just wide enough to deny intimacy.

There’s a pause where the both of them don’t say anything, as if taking time to get accustomed to the sudden shift in the air that came with their renewed proximity. 

It is Jaehyun who decides to break the silence. He clears his throat and pushes his hair back, head swaying from side to side as he lets his fringe settle back onto his forehead. “I think we can start,” he shares as he slips his right hand through the side strap of the camera sitting cold around the palm of his left, thumbing the LCD display clean as he brings the gadget up to his chest.

Taeyong blinks at him, then nods. “Okay.” He scoots away from Jaehyun, his back falling to lean against the pillows stacked high next to the headboard, his torso remaining propped up. “I guess I’ll start now and... you can start filming, yeah?”

“Okay.” Jaehyun lets his shoulders relax, the whole weight of his upper body drooping down to rest against his bent legs.

“Okay.” Taeyong smiles meekly, and Jaehyun watches as the elder raises his hand to his mouth to bite idly around the nail of a thumb.

_Maybe he’s nervous too_, Jaehyun thinks, which would be quite surprising to him if true because, if anything, Taeyong should be used to this by now. He’s a camboy, after all—has been doing this since, what, even before Jaehyun found his roommate ad and moved into the apartment.

The camera whirrs as Jaehyun turns it on. “One... Two... Three...” he counts down, gauging and adjusting the focus on Taeyong through the display before finally pressing down on the record button.

The camera lets out a digital, bell-like sound to signal that it has begun recording, after which Jaehyun nods and looks up from the display to Taeyong, who seems to be gradually slipping into his online persona, eyes cast down to the space between his crossed legs where his hands lay flat on the bed sheet.

The first minute passes in relative silence, during which Jaehyun offers to play music, earning him a wry smile from Taeyong who says, “You’re not supposed to talk while we’re recording, Jaehyunnie.”

Right. That had been the second condition for Taeyong’s request.

Jaehyun smiles apologetically. He shifts in his position and continues to point the camera at Taeyong.

With his eyes fluttering close, Taeyong heaves out a heavy sigh that makes the hair on Jaehyun’s nape stand up as though witnessing a sudden chill. Then, he lets two fingers trace the fullness of his bottom lip, mouth opening in an another exhale as the hand trails down leisurely from his chin, his throat, and to the dip between his collarbones, where the fingers curve to pull the collar of his sweater downwards and reveal the beginnings of his chest in a manner of teasing what lies just beneath his top.

Taeyong lifts his sweater eventually, but he doesn’t take it off. Instead, he bunches the garment and brings it to his mouth where he decidedly bites down on the cloth to keep it up, bringing the full expanse of his chest to full view.

A momentary pause ensues where Taeyong just breathes heavily through his nose, as if in anticipation for the next touch, the next sensuous contact of his slim, bony fingers against his skin.

It’s amazing, Jaehyun thinks, how Taeyong looks simultaneously powerless and in control like this. He knows that Taeyong can make himself come under five minutes, can attain pleasure swiftly and easily with the skillful use of his hands. Jaehyun had seen it happen before, in the only video of Taeyong’s that he’s watched. But the elder doesn’t seem eager to let himself join the chase, at least not for this show.

Jaehyun takes the lull as an opportunity to do what Taeyong had asked of him. Putting his video-taking skills to use, he lets the camera focus roam over Taeyong’s body. And he learns that, under the dim lighting of the room, which allows just for the right contrast and air of intimacy to show on the video, Taeyong’s chest flushes a pretty shade of pink—the color much deeper and prepossessing in actual view.

Jaehyun finds himself withholding a sigh.

“Ah,” Taeyong half-moans as he grazes a fingertip against a nipple, voice muffled by the bundle of cloth in his mouth. He arches his neck up and lets his head rest against the stacked pillows behind him as the same hand dips down, down, and down—only stopping once it reaches the incipient tent around his crotch.

This time, a silent moan escapes Taeyong as he moves his wrist to start palming himself through his shorts, his jaw instantly becoming slack, the sweater threatening to fall back down to cover his torso.

Jaehyun pulls himself up to a kneeling position as he reels back, half-convinced he should reach out and hold the obstructive sweater up for the elder. But he doesn’t, only watches as the offending article of clothing does fall back down when Taeyong hisses after pressing the heel of his palm against the bulge on his crotch.

Taeyong groans as he continues to palm himself. His other hand teases the elastic ends of his thigh highs, fingers pinching and slipping under the stockings, making Jaehyun wonder how the finely-netted material would feel if he were to touch it.

He swallows, his throat suddenly feeling parched. Stockings never looked enticing to him until Taeyong.

Then, as if out of patience, Taeyong pushes the waistband of his shorts down, the movement bringing his boxers with it. “Fuck,” he breathes out, and Jaehyun finds himself mouthing the same word behind the camera when Taeyong’s half-hard cock comes into view.

It’s not like Jaehyun has never seen it before, whatever it was that was happening before him. But his shoulders tense anyway when Taeyong spreads pre-cum down his length and starts to pull and tug at his own cock, eyes squeezing shut and teeth biting down onto his bottom lip as he rocks himself slightly with the action, the bedframe squeaking occasionally with his movements.

It doesn’t take long until Taeyong starts shuddering and lifting his hips up almost involuntarily, and the first full moan that escapes his mouth hits Jaehyun like whiplash.

Jaehyun blinks and, suddenly, everything looks and feels too much. The wet and sloppy sound that Taeyong’s hand makes as it drags up and down his length fills his already reddened ears, the obscenity of it pushing him to accept that _this_ is really happening. Taeyong—his roommate, hyung, and crush for almost two years—is really touching himself in front of him. The delayed realization makes Jaehyun’s breathing catch in his throat and he coughs as a result, earning him a look from Taeyong’s lidded eyes.

And Taeyong stares, doesn’t let go of Jaehyun’s gaze even when he sits up to shimmy out of his shorts. He moves to grab the bottle of lube that had been sitting on his bedside table and, before Jaehyun could properly adjust the camera angle, falls back down to his previous position, spreads his legs so that his crotch is in full view for Jaehyun and the camera, and then traces his entrance with a lubed finger, his cock resting and leaking against his stomach.

Jaehyun feels his knees weakening under Taeyong’s gaze. He’s suddenly glad he’s not standing because he’s pretty sure his legs would’ve given out if he were, especially not with the obvious tent in his sweatpants that only continues to grow with every passing second. He considers Taeyong’s last condition for this request, which was that Jaehyun would be absolutely free to stop recording and call it quits whenever he wanted. He considers it not because he feels uncomfortable, but because he thinks he’s in the brink of crossing a threshold he wouldn’t be able to step back nor out of once traversed. He was edging closer to a brink, ears coloring pink just from the acknowledgement of his arousal.

He couldn’t help it, not when the mouth he always liked to imagine and see breaking into a smile or a fit of laughter breaks, not for joy, but for pleasure that manifests itself as quick puffs of air with the tongue suspended in a silent moan, the lips glistening with spit. Jaehyun couldn’t stop his free hand from digging into the side of his left thigh, not when the eyes he never wanted to see filled with tears were now glazed with lust and something else that Jaehyun refused to acknowledge as he continues to hold Taeyong’s gaze while Taeyong pushed another finger inside himself.

Jaehyun couldn’t help it. Because, _God_, was Taeyong gorgeous like this. More than anything, he considers almost two years of suppression and restraint—of never crossing the line that Taeyong had drawn between them the day he announced he had no interest in dating anyone who knew about his camboy gig—a satisfactory display of self-control. And Taeyong, with his penchant for nursing the non-platonic feelings of others despite his absolute obliviousness to said feelings is, to Jaehyun, the ultimate test of self-control. Self-control which Jaehyun is absolutely certain he has, and which he finds Taeyong slowly yet surely wearing down with every ragged breath that escapes his mouth.

“Please,” he hears Taeyong say, and so he moves the camera from where it had been focused on the way Taeyong fucked himself open on his fingers to the way Taeyong’s other hand trembles as it tries to cover his face, his closed eyes and flushed cheeks peeking through the spaces in between his splayed fingers.

“Touch me,” Taeyong chokes out, breathing increasingly getting more erratic as a wave of pleasure passes through his body and causes him to shudder with every eager bounce of his hips. He has two fingers scissoring inside himself now, but somehow it just doesn’t seem enough. “Touch me. More. Please.”

At this moment, Jaehyun wishes he had been born an inanimate tripod. That way, he thinks, he wouldn’t have to deal with the fierce throbbing in his pants. It hurts to be looking at Taeyong like this, to be so near he feels Taeyong’s voice reverberating against the walls as the elder moans at the push of a third finger inside himself, and yet at the same time so impossibly far—the camera in his hand serving as the impregnable wall between him and Taeyong. No, Jaehyun isn’t bound by anything, but he thinks he might as well have been because the restraint is starting to hurt. He fears the invisible ties he’d been holding on to might soon stretch taut and break, and so against his better judgment, he allows himself a tiny sense of relief, and croaks out a soft and hesitant, “Hyung.”

His head swirls with images of what could be if he would just reach out—

“Jaehyun, please,” Taeyong pants. “_Jae_.”

What.

And it brings Jaehyun back to where he’d been sitting and filming in front of Taeyong, who he finds looking at him with a pained expression. _What?_

Taeyong slows down to a languid yet equally erotic pace, his mouth still agape as he breathes out with each slow, painstaking thrust.

Jaehyun holds his breath. Did he imagine what he thinks he just heard? His hold on the camera loosens as he stares squarely at Taeyong, causing the camera focus to move from Taeyong’s fingers to Taeyong’s feet curling into the bed sheet.

Taeyong continues to touch himself, saying—but more accurately breathing out—only when his lungs get just the right amount of air to produce words, “Touch me, Jae. Please. I want you to touch me.”

_Jae_. Jaehyun had only heard that nickname escape once from Taeyong’s mouth. Images of emptied beer cans and of the familiar mess of Taeyong’s hair slumped against his shoulder rips through his mind, but he swats it away with a bit of effort as he had done these past few months.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun says, his voice feeling distant. The camera in his hand remains focused on the bed sheet instead of at Taeyong. “Are you serious—”

“Yes. Here,” Taeyong groans as he squeezes his eyes shut. He reaches out to lace his fingers with Jaehyun, fingers stick with lube and pre-cum. “Touch me. I want you to. Please,” he pleads, pulling Jaehyun’s hand closer to him.

Jaehyun feels his throat tightening. The realization that Taeyong wants to be touched by him—is practically _begging _to be touched by him—refuses to sink in despite the proof being blown up and practically underlined in front of him. He frees his hand from Taeyong’s grasp as he fights against a thousand _‘shit, he’s so pretty, I’m fucked’s_ inside his head, the mantra echoing as anything but new for Jaehyun when it comes to how he sees the elder. Imagining that a caress would be enough to calm him, he closes his eyes, and then lets his hand reach out to rest against Taeyong’s cheek.

At the touch of Jaehyun’s hand on his face, Taeyong sighs immediately—the exhale curt, heavy, and ragged. His whole body comes to a halt, eager and waiting for Jaehyun’s next move. He stares vacantly as the hand on his cheek drags a finger down and over his jaw, tracing the bone there, until it comes back up and settles above his lip, the touch wet yet feathery in its lightness. Unthinking, Taeyong opens his mouth and sucks on the fingertip that falls into his mouth and against his lower teeth.

Jaehyun watches intently as his finger pushes inch by inch past Taeyong’s lips. He swears when he feels the elder lick around his finger, stares as his finger reaches knuckle-deep into Taeyong’s mouth. Suddenly acknowledging the lewdness of the action, he pulls his finger away from Taeyong with a tug, and it comes out with a wet and loud pop. _Well, fuck_.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, the word ‘anything’ ringing in his ears. _Anything. I’d do anything. _“I don’t...” he tries, then averts his gaze from the imploring look on Taeyong’s face, “How do... how do you want to be touched?”

Even before Jaehyun could register the movement, Taeyong grabs for the younger’s hand and leads it to hover just above his cock. Then he lets go of Jaehyun, moving to cover his face with both hands. “There,” he says, voice merely above a whisper.

_Anything. _Jaehyun shakes his head. This wasn’t part of the coupon favor; Taeyong only asked him to hold the camera. Whatever he decides to do at this point would be out of his own volition, not out of obligation, which means that there would be no excuses this time, no safety nets. Touching Taeyong now would be putting into action all the words he couldn’t say before. _Will he think this is still part of the favor? _

He lowers his hand down, and wraps it hard around Taeyong’s fully erect cock.

“Fuck!” Taeyong hisses at the contact, his hips jumping from the bed and bucking into Jaehyun’s fist. His hands fly from where they’ve been covering his face to wrap around the wrist of Jaehyun’s hand, which had started to pump him slowly, the closed fist alternating between loosening and tightening over his length. “I didn’t think you’d actually— Ah! Jaehyun— Wait—” Taeyong keens, his back arching as he continues to paw at Jaehyun’s hand.

Jaehyun immediately halts his ministrations, worry and confusion molding his face with lines and creases. Had he crossed a line? Was Taeyong only teasing when he said he wanted to be touched?

“No. Not— Don’t stop. I didn’t mean,” Taeyong gasps, face red and sweat coating his chest and forehead like second-skin. With a tug at the younger’s wrist, he urges Jaehyun’s hand to resume its pace, panting, “I was just. Surprised. _Please_.”

“What do you want, hyung,” Jaehyun asks blankly, hand ghosting over the elder’s twitching cock, “Tell me.” _Even without the damned coupons, I’ll do anything_.

“Your hand...” Taeyong rasps, and it takes a moment for Jaehyun to notice the tears lining the rims of his eyes, “Make me cum. With your hand. While you film me.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun says, registering the small hint of doubt—the unspoken _‘if you want to’_—on Taeyong’s face. He nods, taking a deep breath as he decides that, yes, he wants to. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

The second time that Jaehyun touches him, Taeyong bites down hard onto his bottom lip to stifle an involuntary gasp.

With his fingers curled around Taeyong’s length, Jaehyun once again starts to pump the elder slowly, making sure to coat his hand with the pre-cum that leaked from the tip of Taeyong’s cock down to its shaft. His touch was anything but light, devoid of the indecision that had once been there earlier and roughened by the calluses on his fingertips and the pad of his palm.

Taeyong’s chest heaves a staccato in-and-out of air as his head rolls backwards. Jaehyun’s hand is warm around him, the touch that it sends taking all the space inside his head. He feels himself getting impossibly bigger in the younger’s hold, and he whimpers, “Jaehyun—”

And Jaehyun mentally balks. He couldn’t believe any of this was happening—his beautiful Taeyong hyung spread out, gasping, moaning his name, and possibly crying from pleasure in front of him—he couldn’t properly tell, he couldn’t let himself be fully immersed in the situation, and so he watched his hand and Taeyong through the camera’s LCD screen.

After a few tight pumps, Taeyong couldn’t help but whine from the electric-like gratification that creeped up from his legs to his chest, the sensation then spreading to his shoulders and nape. He begins to feel like he can’t possibly take any more, especially when Jaehyun’s thumb presses into his slit. The younger was moving his hand even faster now, the sound of each slick stroke obscene when put in contrast to the humming of the AC. Taeyong’s hip and stomach eventually start to convulse, hands fisting the bed sheet at the warmth that he feels building and rising in his stomach. He couldn’t breathe, mind blanking bit by blown bit.

As if sensing his struggle, Jaehyun shifts closer to him and slips the camera off his other hand. The gadget falls in between Taeyong’s legs with its lens facing up at an angle that catches the underside of Taeyong’s jaw and the rise and fall of his chest. Jaehyun then uses his now-free hand to lift Taeyong’s shirt, urging the elder to bite down onto the cloth again. Once Taeyong gets the message and does hold the garment in between his teeth, Jaehyun moves his hand to press a warm palm down against the elder’s stomach, massaging the area gently as if to aid in calming down the elder’s spasms. “So pretty,” he allows himself to say, wincing slightly at how he sounded as though mimicking what Taeyong’s usual viewers would say, and so he adds, amends the sentiment into something he knows only he could give the elder, “I’d hate for anyone to see you like this, hyung.”

The touch and the sound of Jaehyun’s voice, the words that just left his mouth, sends Taeyong keening at the swarm of goosebumps that prickle over the skin of his stomach and thighs. It’s almost too much now, the threat of a spilling over edging both on the tip of his tongue and his cock. “Jaehyun— Jae—” he finds himself groaning the younger’s name, toes curling and hands fisting at the sheets haphazardly, causing one side to be pulled from where it had been tucked under one end. The sweater in his mouth falls back down and rests in folds on his chest. He couldn’t take it anymore—actually feels it coming, feels the coils in his stomach stretch taut and wring harder. “Do you like—” he gasps through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut, “—me? Do you like me, Jae?”

Unfair—the one word that makes an appearance in Jaehyun’s consciousness.

This. All of this was, put succinctly, unfair. Jaehyun held his breath, hands moving of their own accord now as they continued to give what the elder needed. How could Taeyong ask him such a question, now of all times? Without the camera to shield him from the elder, Jaehyun felt cornered, everything that he had kept deftly to himself for almost two years threatening to spill over and taint or possibly break whatever it was that he had with Taeyong. He remembers the question having asked by the elder on a drunken night approximately four months ago, a night that he pretends not to remember but does now—every single detail, every nook and cranny of the memory springing into color from having been kept too long in sepia.

“I do,” Jaehyun finds himself finally say, his voice small in the myriad of overwhelming sensations crashing down him. He gives Taeyong a final stroke, his voice faltering at the last syllable as he continues, “I like you, hyung. So much.”

Taeyong chokes on a cry as he cums hard, forcefully and desperately, strings of white spilling out of his cock and onto his chest and stomach in fitful gushes. Jaehyun continues to stroke him through his orgasm, his hand slicker than it had ever been earlier. And, before long, Taeyong begins to whine from overstimulation, his chest heaving out the rest of the cries that he had choked on when he climaxed, hands pawing helplessly at and begging for Jaehyun’s hand to stop.

A slight pause conquers the room for a moment as both come down from the witnessed high, the silence interspersed only by the sounds of Taeyong’s labored breathing and of Jaehyun shifting as he moves away to grab the box of tissues that lied on the bedside table.

Jaehyun takes his time and wipes his hands dry with tissue, making sure to crumple the wad into a ball and toss it towards Taeyong’s garbage can after he’s done. Then he spends a minute hesitating before finally taking out another sheaf of tissues from the box, eyes downcast as he wipes Taeyong’s chest and stomach clean with it, wary of the way Taeyong flinched slightly at the contact.

“That was. Something,” is all that Jaehyun could say as he clears his throat, the stunted statement supposedly serving to summarize how it felt for him to have witnessed his Taeyong hyung orgasming and making a mess out of himself from his touch. “I dropped the camera. In the middle of it,” he announces, suddenly feeling abashed from the thought of having failed at the request that was the only reason he was in Taeyong’s room tonight.

He picks the camera up from where it had been tossed near Taeyong’s legs, careful to avoid grazing his fingers against Taeyong’s skin. Lifting the gadget to his chest to look closer, he finds himself chuckling at the fact that Taeyong had gotten some of his release on the camera’s body, particularly the lens. “Your viewers are probably going to love that,” he quips.

“What you said...” Taeyong begins after a moment, finally speaking up from where he’d been lying limp on the bed. “Was it true?” He sits up sluggishly, searches for the shorts and underwear that he’d discarded earlier before putting them back on, eyes coming back to face the younger once he finishes.

The camera clicks as Jaehyun presses the button that stops it from recording. He turns the gadget off before handing it to Taeyong. “I hope the footage is alright,” he says. “That’s one last coupon favor down.”

Taeyong accepts the camera without a word. Then, he starts again, his shoulders tensing as he says, “Jaehyun. Earlier. When you said—”

“That I like you?” Jaehyun cuts him off, short and sharp. There’s an edge to his tone that Taeyong didn’t expect to hear.

Ignoring it, Taeyong nods. He holds the camera closer to his chest. “Yes. Did you mean it?”

Jaehyun swallows the lump in his throat he hadn’t noticed was there all along. This is it, he says to himself, eyes closing as he sighs. There’s no escaping it anymore. Almost two years of control to be finally ended by four, simple words: “Yes,” he says. “I meant it.”

The look on Taeyong’s face morphs from that of apprehension to one that spoke of elation. He smiles, albeit weakly, the relief manifesting itself primarily through the small laugh that escapes his mouth. “Ah, I’m... I’m glad. I was worried it got too weird for you,” he says, nodding to himself. He moves to kneel close to Jaehyun, then places a hand on the younger’s chest, lowering his head as he lets the hand slip down to the waistband of Jaehyun’s sweatpants. “Can I touch you too?” he asks. “As thanks. For earlier.”

“No, hyung.” Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling cautiously. He doesn’t feel like the elder understood. “There’s no need.”

Taeyong stares. “But I thought you liked me like that, earlier? Look, you’re still hard, Jae.” He straightens his palm against Jaehyun’s hip, fits his fingers on the curve of the bone there.

And, once again, Jaehyun shakes his head. He leads Taeyong’s hand away from him and holds it in between them, ducking his head as he gives the elder’s hand a squeeze. Earlier wasn’t weird at all, he finds himself mentally correcting the other; it just got too intimate too fast. “You once said you wouldn’t date anyone who knows about your camboy gig and your porn videos,” he begins, laughing inwardly at himself.

“Yes. I did,” Taeyong answers, tilting his head to the side as he wonders where the younger plans to go with what he just said. Jaehyun’s hold on his hand is light yet very present. “Wait. Why?”

“Well, I know about your camboy gig and your porn videos,” Jaehyun says, squeezing Taeyong’s hand again, voice quivering and breathy as though rushed.

Taeyong blinks. “Jaehyunnie—”

At that, Jaehyun looks up at him, eyes sincere and intense. “I know about everything, but I want to date you. I like you, hyung.” He thinks back to the day he moved in to Taeyong’s apartment, how it had rained and how the elder had offered him one of his towels because he didn’t want the younger to be bothered to unpack just yet. How, ever since that day, the elder had shown him nothing but kindness and warmth, and how it didn’t matter to him what Taeyong does as a side-job because it isn’t immoral at all and Taeyong was fucking good at it anyway and he believes that nothing, absolutely nothing, could degrade the elder in his eyes, not even the elder’s fierce obliviousness to his feelings. He sighs—he’d thought that much in the span of a few seconds—then adds, “So much.” _I like you so much I’d do anything. Even this, confessing to you and letting you know how much you mean to me even if it ends badly_, he realizes. _Even if it ends badly._

“Oh,” is all Taeyong can say, at least initially. Then, he lets go of Jaehyun’s hand, looking blank as he lifts both hands to cover his face. “Shit. This is really happening?” Taeyong laughs breathily, and Jaehyun feels his stomach sinking just a little bit.

“I didn’t think it would actually... I didn’t plan _this_ far ahead,” Taeyong rattles on, hands still covering his face, “Shit. I don’t know what to do. He actually likes me too.”

Jaehyun’s ears perk up. “Hyung?” He looks at the other and finds the elder’s hands trembling as they did earlier, except for a whole different reason now.

“Fuck,” Taeyong curses, and Jaehyun reaches out to put a hand over the elder’s.

He coaxes Taeyong to uncover his face, and what greets him when the elder lowers his hands reluctantly is a look he thinks he will never forget. Taeyong’s whole face is flushed, a tinge of warm pink resting over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His ears—albeit adopting a lighter shade of bashfulness—are nonetheless flushed too.

“Sorry. I knew,” Taeyong says as he tries to keep himself from smiling, eyes glazed over with something that Jaehyun knows he wants named. “I knew that, in some way, you liked me. But I never thought you liked me that way,” he continues, hands itching to cover his face again. He settles with a hand over a cheek. “I like you too,” he confesses, “In _that_ way, too, I mean.”

“Hyung— How long?” Jaehyun straightens his back. The sinking feeling in his stomach slowly changing into a feeling of exhilaration and nerves. For the nth time tonight, he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Since that night. A few months ago. We made out on the couch, but I don’t think you remember. We were drunk.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Hyung, I do. I remember. I thought _you_ were the one who didn’t,” he says, watching as questions flashed one by one in the elder’s eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t tell you because you said you wouldn’t date anyone who knows about what you do.”

“I said that because I don’t want to date creeps, Jae!” Taeyong says with mild exasperation, as though not believing what he just heard. “Are _you_ a creep?” he teases after a moment, smiling right after he shakes his head. “Wow, so we’re _both_ slow,” he says.

And Jaehyun shakes his head too, as if to express that he didn’t understand although he did. Completely. Each and every word. _This_—something he thought impossible—was indeed happening.

As if sensing his internal suffering, Taeyong moves closer to the younger and takes Jaehyun’s hands into both of his, squeezing the palms as the younger did with his earlier. “So, are you a creep?” he asks.

“No...” Jaehyun answers, looking up to meet Taeyong’s gaze this time.

“Okay. Great. So, can I kiss you?” Taeyong says, and Jaehyun thinks he now knows what the look in the elder’s eyes means. “Cause I’ve been wanting to, ever since that night.”

_He likes me too_, Jaehyun says to himself, repeats it until the words ring true and erases his doubts. Then, he nods.

And, with a hand over Jaehyun’s nape, Taeyong pulls the younger down so that their lips meet for the first time in months. The kiss starts chaste, but doesn’t stay so for too long. Although their foreheads bump and teeth clack briefly against each other at the very beginning, the kiss eventually melts into something fluid, something that doesn’t need much thinking, just feeling. Before Jaehyun could register the movement, he feels Taeyong’s mouth coaxing his own open with the slow drag of a tongue over his lower lip. And so he obliges and lets Taeyong deepen the kiss. He places hands on each side of the elder’s shoulders as he steadies them both, afraid that his knees would give out without warning. Then, he angles his head and allows himself to suck on the elder’s tongue, feels the hand over his nape dig nails against his skin as Taeyong moans into the kiss, the elder’s other hand coming up to twist around and find leverage on the collar of Jaehyun’s shirt.

The kiss is warm and needy and everything that it had been months ago but, at the same time, also different. And when Taeyong leans up to chase Jaehyun’s lips when Jaehyun pulls back to catch his breath, the younger realizes what exactly makes this kiss different: a clear sense of want and intent.

A thin string of saliva connects both of their mouths when they break away from each other, breathless and desperate.

Wiping his mouth dry with the back of a hand, Taeyong chuckles softly and then says, “Took us long enough.”

Jaehyun nods. He catches the look that appears on Taeyong’s eyes when the elder looks down.

“Jae, you’re hard again,” Taeyong says, tone as-a-matter-of-fact albeit his eyes glimmer a different mood.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jaehyun apologizes. Everything has been too much for him tonight, he realizes. An involuntary moan escapes his mouth and he recoils, bending as if he’d been punched in the stomach, when Taeyong slips a hand down his waistband and holds him there.

“Can I suck you off?” Taeyong asks. “I’ve been wanting to.”

“Since... Since when,” Jaehyun manages to say. He bites onto his bottom lip and forces himself to be quiet when Taeyong’s fingers move just a bit around him.

“Since earlier,” Taeyong says, then laughs. “So can I?”

“Okay.”

“Well, stand up for me.”

Jaehyun nods almost too eagerly as he obliges. Once standing, he tries his best to keep his knees from buckling, eyes shutting in anticipation.

And, with one forceful tug and pull, Jaehyun’s sweatpants and boxers come off to crowd around his knees, and Taeyong bends down and takes Jaehyun into his mouth.

\--------

The next day, Jaehyun opens his eyes and wakes up to the sound of his phone pinging, only to groan and place an arm over his eyes to cover the harsh sunlight filtering through the window across him whose translucent blinds do little to keep the room unlit.

He turns to his side, fixes the pillow that he suddenly finds too soft for his liking under his neck, and tries to fall back to sleep.

But, heedless to his wants and needs, his phone pings again.

Burrowing one side of his face into the pillow, Jaehyun inhales deeply as he forces his eyes to open. He breathes in the clean, washed out smell of fabric conditioner mixing with lavender and something else, something comforting and familiar. Then, sitting up, he opens his eyes fully for the first time and finds himself alone in Taeyong’s room and on Taeyong’s bed.

_Oh_, his mind supplies in a failed attempt at eloquence. Despite being only half-awake, everything that happened yesterday comes flooding back into Jaehyun’s head like a dream that won’t let itself be forgotten as soon as he looks down and finds himself half-naked, the rose gold satin sheets with telltale marks bunched in a cascade of folds around his waist.

It hadn’t been a dream, alright. Jaehyun finds himself smiling, albeit groggily, at the thought.

Then, remembering what woke him up, he reaches for his phone on the bedside table before he could hear it ping again, and finds an email from Taeyong:

> _Lee Taeyong_
> 
> _(no subject)_
> 
> _By the time you open this, I’m probably out running some errands. Or, who knows, I might be back and you’d still be sleeping. It’s a weekend, so sleep in if you like. Just change the sheets if you can when you wake up._
> 
> _Anyway, I know I said the video you filmed was for my page. I lied. It was for you all along, so here. I still can’t believe yesterday worked. This is an exclusive, so you don’t have to pay anything for it (if we’re talking money, anyway). Haha._
> 
> _P.S. I left breakfast in the fridge. You know what to do with it. But in case yesterday made you forget, microwave it ;)_
> 
> _P.P.S. I like you too, Jaehyun. (I’ll say this in person again, later. Maybe. But you better say it back.)_
> 
> _[click to open video attachment]_

Jaehyun doesn’t click on the video attachment, only stares at the thumbnail which shows a close-up image of Taeyong’s face sporting a mock-innocent look in front of the camera. Taken out of context, he wouldn’t guess the video to be anything that he knows it to be; the only thing that would give it away is its title: _filmedforyou.mp4_

Locking his phone and putting it back down on the bedside table, Jaehyun finds himself chuckling. He didn’t open the video attachment. He doesn’t feel the need to. He merely smiles to no one in particular as he collapses back into Taeyong’s bed, grabs a pillow to hug close to his chest, and breathes in the scent of the elder who he hopes to be home soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i still don't know what to feel about this fic, so i would really appreciate it if you let me know what you think! you can also talk to me on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/lotsofbluejaes)!


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